Tuma's "Blessed One," Stalin's hiding place and a place of writer's inspiration
How a Moscow Region resident opened a museum in a Ryazan village
The locals did not immediately understand and accept the newcomer's idea.
The majestic Trinity Church, dozens of private one-story houses with a population of just over 5, a bus station where passing tourists complain about the lack of a public restroom, a small two-story market where locals sell mushrooms, berries, and preserves, and bakery stalls that are almost completely gone by the weekend—they've all run out of groceries. These are the only visible sights of this Meshchera village.
There are others, too, less noticeable. For example, the fact that he used to come here often and cause trouble as a kid. Sergei Yesenin - He studied at a nearby school, a writer Alexander Kuprin I visited my sister and mentioned the town in my stories, I was passing through Alexander Solzhenitsyn, visited my uncle Boris PasternakAn American journalist and poetess lived here in a special settlement. Mary Reed — a romantic person who became “infected” with the ideas of communism and accepted Soviet citizenship.
He knows all about it and talks about it with pleasure. Alexey Gushan, which opened Museum of True Stories"NeMoscow" visited workers' settlement of Tuma and tells about another provincial museum. It's definitely not boring!
A museum with a double bottom
A torrential downpour lashed them along the way. The GPS took them to a different street. Alexey Gushan turned out to be much younger than he looked in photos, thanks to the graying of his neat beard. Just beyond the gate, they encountered a grinning bandit peering out from behind a hut. It became clear that Tuma was a land of surprises.
- And this is an oak tree, — the owner points to a young, but already quite mature tree near the fence. "We inherited it along with the land. Did you know that Tuma doesn't come from "fog," but rather means "oak" and "remote place" in Mordvin? "Tumak" is also what the robbers, of whom there used to be countless here, used to reward wealthy travelers. It's also a cross between a mountain hare and a brown hare. Hunters claim that even a seasoned hunting dog can't catch it. That's how diverse it is.
The Gushan family moved to Tuma from the village of Malakhovka near Moscow due to a sharp decline in environmental conditions. Alexey and his wife traveled through three regions in 2020 while looking for a home, but settled on Tuma because they really liked it. Trinity Church, which is built on a swamp, and therefore on oak piles. Alexey — a poet, publicist, and member of the Union of Russian Writers, so his first step was to study the history of Tuma. Having dug up information about the historical and literary figures who had visited the area, he became puzzled: why was there no museum in the village, not even a shabby display with their portraits and brief descriptions? So he decided to build a museum himself, right on his property, by building an extension to his house.
"Of course, at the very beginning, few people understood or supported my idea. They said, 'You'd be better off opening a pub or a store. What good is a museum? No one will come here!' There were even some unpleasant situations... But they didn't know me, or rather, my friends! I have many friends in the literary and journalistic communities, who helped me with some issues and gave me good publicity. And people came! True, 90 percent of the visitors are not locals, — the owner reports.
The exhibition begins right in the courtyard. Here you'll find the aforementioned painted robber, a hut, beehives, a rustic fence made of poles, and colorful flowerbeds.
The museum annex itself contains peasant tools, a loom, a stove and chests, a samovar, and a cradle suspended from the ceiling. In addition to the peasant exhibit, there are themed corners—unexpected highlights and gems of the museum.
"American Spy" from Tuma
Immediately upon entering, my gaze is drawn to a doll: a woman in felt boots, a sheepskin coat, and a warm shawl, pulling a sled filled with buckets of water. Her face is filled with pained eyes, with deep wrinkles running from the corners of her lips to her chin and forehead. Surrounding her are photographs, sheets of paper with notes in English, and, most unexpectedly, barbed wire. This is an image of a Soviet American woman, made by Ryazan doll maker Svetlana Biryukova. Mary Reed—it's strange to hear such a name in the Meshchera forests, yet she spent almost 20 years here. Six of those were in a settlement after a forced labor camp in Yaroslavl. In other words, she didn't end up here by choice, but she stayed of her own free will.
She was born into a classic American family of strict Catholics in the town of Sandwich. She worked as a swimming instructor, attended law school, and was destined for a legal career. But in 1919, she attended a speech by American journalist John Reed in Boston, read his book "Ten Days That Shook the World," and became enamored with the ideas of communism. She learned Russian (having previously known four languages), joined the Communist Party of the USA, and at 30, came to Moscow. — Alexey says, clarifying: Mary Read is sometimes confused with the famous pirate, and sometimes called John Reed’s sister.
"I had, perhaps, no greater desire than to catch a glimpse of all that the Russian Bolsheviks had accomplished in a war-ravaged country. To see the faces of these people, to understand their thoughts." — she explained her impulse decades later in an interview.
The dream came true. The American woman came to the Soviet Union with her son, whom she named after John Reed. She represented the Daily Worker, The New Masses, and The Nation there. Having joined the All-Union Bolshevik Party and become a translator for the Comintern, she lost the opportunity to return to her homeland. She soon moved to Leningrad, where she found work at the State Publishing House, becoming an editor and consultant on modern Western literature. 1937 brought a surprise: she wasn't repressed; on the contrary, she received Soviet citizenship. It seemed the authorities favored her, but with the onset of war, everything changed: Mary was finally reminded of her origins—having connections with foreigners, even someone like Mary Reed, was dangerous.
During the war, she worked briefly as an assistant at a radio station. Olga Berggolts Mary was fired. Her son, John, wasn't drafted into the front. He was wounded during an air raid, took a long time to get home, caught a severe cold, and died of pneumonia. Without work, and therefore without food rations, Mary starved and developed stage 2 muscular dystrophy. Bergholz saved her by getting her admitted to a hospital.
Mary kept a diary in English. Among other things, she wrote about bureaucratic inertia and bureaucracy, public lies, and "Potemkin villages," which couldn't have happened under Lenin. She wrote a letter to Stalin about this. Mary believed Stalin knew nothing about it, and once he learned, he'd figure it all out. But the letter didn't reach Stalin, but the "competent authorities." Reed was arrested in June 1945.
She was accused of espionage, which was never proven, then reclassified as "anti-Soviet agitation." Mary received five years in a labor camp, along with a deprivation of her civil rights—a ban on living in large cities and the inability to find work. That's how, after serving her sentence, she ended up in Tuma.
The police forbade locals from communicating with the "American spy," but people secretly brought her food, and a disabled workers' cooperative, at their own risk, hired her to haul sawdust. Mary lived in a small corner of a cold warehouse until she was rehabilitated in 1956. She was allowed to return to Leningrad, but she refused. The authorities suddenly remembered her services and gave her an entire house.
Mary abandoned him in favor of a large family from Tuma and settled herself at 2 Sovetskaya Street, in half of a dilapidated house. She lived very ascetically, with a minimum of furniture and belongings. She ate what grew in her garden and what the chickens and goats produced. — says Alexey, pointing to a photo: it shows an elderly Mary Reed surrounded by animals. She was given a pension, but she began donating half of it to the Vietnam People's Aid Fund. She taught children English for free, and many later became English teachers themselves. For all this, she was called "the blessed one."
In 1969, Mary broke her hip and became practically paralyzed. She was taken to a nursing home in Mikhailov, Ryazan. At that moment, a high-ranking official remembered the "Soviet American" again, and she was transferred to a well-appointed nursing home in Peredelkino. She died there in 1972.
There is no trace left of her Tuma house.
Alexey has started writing a book about Mary Read and dreams of making a documentary film and a separate museum, but he lacks the time and resources. He has also created a creative Mary Reed Competition "Life is All-Powerful," which has already become a national landmark. At this point, the host concluded his story about the "Soviet American" and led us to another exhibit.
The lights went out in the museum. This happens often in Tuma and the surrounding region.
"A pure adventure!"
According to Alexey, the museum turned out to be "literary in nature." It's no coincidence that the museum is historical and literary and is included in the large encyclopedia "Literary Museums of Russia." But the area around Tuma is associated with so many historical facts and other amazing legends that it's fitting to dedicate a museum to it. terrible fireThe Kursha logging disaster of 1936 claimed the lives of between 250 and 300 people, or more, according to other sources, over 1000. It's the narrow-gauge railway with its "cuckoo" train, which moved through the Meshchera forests so slowly that mushroom and berry pickers had time to fill their baskets and hop back on. There are tales of treasures buried by local bandits and untold riches. And what about the unique window frames created by local artisans? Alexey collects them separately. Some are donated by people themselves after renovations, others have to be salvaged. Since there are almost no genuine old window frames left, he also collects photographs.
"And what about the building that housed the parish school? Yesenin and Kuprin frequented it. The story "The Grasshopper Dragonfly" takes place in that very building. When the church burned down, the school—the building closest to the church—was undamaged, and services were held on the second floor for a long time. When the cult of Stalin was debunked, the monument to the leader disappeared from its place in Tuma. Much later, when the building was finally damaged by fire, the very monument was discovered under the floor. Thus, the "divine" and the communist met in the same building. Incidentally, the whereabouts of that monument now remain unknown."
For a long time, we wandered around the hut, furnished in the old Russian style, marveling at some of the artifacts Alexey had acquired. For example, an iron with an image of Leo Tolstoy carved into its handle. Did the writer have a secret life? Did he manufacture irons? Of course not. The ironing tool was powered by hot coals, and some ironers placed the image of the excommunicated Tolstoy as a warning: freethinking can lead to hellfire.
The lights finally came on, and Alexey talked for a while about the spontaneous opening of his museum.
"It was a pure adventure! At first, I had rose-colored glasses, but the realities of life in Tuma forced me to take them off. Many times I felt discouraged, wanting to give up and leave Tuma. But when I realized that such famous figures lived here, and even people worth remembering, but they were almost forgotten, I couldn't abandon this important undertaking! It's all very labor-intensive, financially demanding, but I dare hope someone needs it. Anyone who dares to follow my path—to create a museum—would advise them to lay down their straws, find like-minded people, and sponsors."“- Alexey “instructs,” sitting on a wooden bench among samovars and “beads” of bagels.
He also says that his museum, for better or worse, is where the “history of Tuma tourism” began.
On the way back, we're back at the same bus station. The stalls are empty except for pies with egg and green onions. The pie is so airy and delicious that you'll be itching for another. "What's so surprising—these are the famous Tuma pies!" boasts the saleswoman, adding that she's been selling them for 40 years. The market stalls are piled high with chanterelles, porcini mushrooms, and blueberries. "Take them, they're all fresh from the forest, these are genuine Tuma mushrooms and berries!" the local women advertise their wares. It seems like there's no need to invent anything to create a tourism industry and brands here—they're just jumping out of their baskets, out of the window of a pie stand, and from every nook and cranny associated with this or that historical figure. But many tourists still pass by—to Kasimov, Murom, Vladimir, Suzdal... But Alexey hopes this will change! Someday, local authorities and business owners will finally support the enthusiasts, and Tuma will no longer be remembered for the lack of a public restroom at the bus station and a large muddy puddle. Currently, it's the first thing visitors to the village see as they disembark from the bus.
